


the art of stealing (hearts)

by asideofourown



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art Heist, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Heist, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asideofourown/pseuds/asideofourown
Summary: Crowley can’t believe his (usually shit) luck when the opportunity for the biggest art heist of his life practically falls into his lap— if he’s successful, he and his associates will walk away with more money and notoriety than ever before.  All he has to do is hope a surprise new addition to his team doesn’t upset the balance, and try not to fall in love with his mark’s handsome assistant Aziraphale, who may be hiding secrets of his own.Meanwhile, Crowley’s past insists upon catching up with him at the worst of times: in the form of the ‘angel’ of the art forgery world, a potentially damning mistake from a previous heist, and the machinations of hidden enemies who have decided it’s finally time for Anthony Crowley to fall.[On temporary hiatus]
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 130
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I'm really excited to finally start sharing this fic! I started working on it back in February, and while the course of my plans have changed I'm still super excited about the concept :D Before we get into it, just a few ~~disclaimers~~ notes:
> 
> I’m here for The Aesthetic™; There are some things I’m specifically ignoring for the sake of Plot™, and some things I may just get wrong because I don’t know a ton about art heists, so you may have to suspend your disbelief a bit. Also, views about the morality of certain crimes expressed by some characters may not be shared by the author... don’t take any messages of morality from this, I’m just here to have a good time and write some fic. Finally, note that there are no MAWs, but there is a little bit of non-graphic violence in a few places— I will give warnings in the beginning notes of applicable chapters.
> 
> Thanks so much to the folks in the GO Events server for their support and encouragement, and to Amanda for hosting this event!
> 
> Enjoy!

**24 November 2018, 1:04 AM**

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh _shit,”_ Crowley muttered, darting through the shadowed halls of the Eden Fine Art Gallery.

Around him alarms blared, the high-pitched shrieking making his ears ring and his heart beat double-time.He had three rolled up paintings slung over his shoulder, each in their own tube, and with every step he took they banged against his spine and thighs.He was disoriented, panicking— he had only been halfway through his work, done taking his stolen paintings out of their frames but not quite finished replacing them with forgeries when the alarms had suddenly gone mad.Even in his panic, though, practice kept his feet quiet, his shoes nearly silent on the tiled floors as he dashed down a dark hall and skidded around a corner.He paused for just a moment, trying to remember whether it was a right turn or a left to get back to the entry point— Why was the gallery so blessed _maze-like—_

“Newt!” Crowley hissed into his earpiece, resisting the urge to shout over the blaring alarms.“What the fuck are you doing, taking a nap?”

“I’m sorry!” Newt replied, sounding panicked even through the tinny microphone jammed in Crowley’s ear.“I’m just trying to— I’ve got to find a different backdoor to the security system— I don’t know what they’ve _changed_ —”

The alarms went silent suddenly, in conjunction with Newt’s cry of triumph, and in their absence the only thing Crowley could hear was the pounding of his pulse.It was surely too late, though— an alarm had been tripped, which meant the cops were on their way and any guards in the building would be looking for them.Unless Crowley wanted to spend a very long time in prison, he and his team needed to get out _fast_.

“Where’s B?” he asked, adjusting the strap of one of the paintings he was stealing.It wouldn’t do to drop one now, not after the disastrous turn this heist had taken— they still needed to get out, make sure everything was worth it.

“South Gallery,” Dagon answered him through the earpiece, her voice cool and level.

“And Eric?” Crowley checked.He wasn’t sure which one of them had set off an alarm (it hadn’t been him, that was for sure!) but regardless, they all needed to get out as soon as possible.

“North Hall, second floor,” Dagon replied.“He’s on his way up and out.”

“Right,” Crowley said.He paused for a split second at a junction, mentally adjusting the orientation of the blueprint in his head before turning to the South Gallery.Eric was on his way out, but if B wasn’t, Crowley suspected that meant they needed help with something.Sure enough, when he shoved open the large oak doors into the South Gallery he found B struggling to get to their feet, the paintings they had gathered by their side.

“What’s the matter?” Crowley asked, hurrying over.

B glared up at him, their scowl visible even through their ski mask.“What the fuck are you doing here, this wasn’t your zone!”

“Doesn’t matter, we need to split,” Crowley snapped.He quickly gathered up their paintings, adding them to the bundle over his shoulder.“Can you stand?” he asked, turning back to his teammate.

“I’m fine,” B growled, and even if Crowley hadn’t known them for ages, he would have been able to hear the pain in their voice.“Just— did something to my ankle when I was coming down, running on it made things worse—”

“C’mere,” Crowley said as he nudged his free arm under theirs, helping them up.

“Get offa me,” B grumbled, even though they didn’t push him away.

“No way,” Crowley replied, panting.B was short, true, but they were leaning most of their weight on him, and between helping lug them down the hallway and the half dozen stolen paintings slung over his shoulder, Crowley was struggling a little.Maybe he was getting too old to do this kind of thing— he’d be forty next year, he was probably reaching the end of his time to regularly break into and rob art museums.

Slowly, _too damn slowly,_ Crowley and B made their way up to the second floor, to the West Hall, where their entrance was.It was only instinct that kept Crowley on the right path, through the shadows and safe zones he had painstakingly mapped out between cameras on a stolen blueprint.

But was there even a point in trying to be sneaky?The museum was being robbed, the alarms had told everyone and their grandmother that.Was there even a point to trying to avoid the attention of the police and of the security guards stationed around?At the rate they were going, they were going to get caught, they were going to get arrested and prosecuted and locked away and—

As though Crowley’s catastrophizing had summoned the authorities, just as he and B reached the top of the stairs a shout rang out from below.“Stop where you are!”

Crowley glanced over his shoulder to see a security guard skid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.“ _Shit!”_ Crowley hissed.

“Leave me,” B said, their voice thick with pain as they hobbled in step with him.

“You’d sell my soul in a fucking instant, I’m not letting you get caught and interrogated,” Crowley replied, his voice rising.He looked over his shoulder again, a jolt of alarm rocketing through him when he saw the security guard start up the stairs.With a surge of adrenaline he bent and picked B up entirely, arms straining.

“Fuck you!” B screeched, struggling.Crowley turned, running as fast as he could— and even with B and the paintings over his shoulder, it was faster than hobbling along with B’s probably sprained, possibly broken ankle.

“I said freeze!” the security guard shouted.

Startled, Crowley stumbled a little, knocking B’s bad ankle against a sharp corner at the top of the stairs.“Fuck!” B shouted, flinching so hard he almost dropped them.

“Sorry,” Crowley panted, out of breath.He slid into the West Hall and unceremoniously dumped B and the paintings on the floor before rushing to close the doors.They thudded shut and Crowley looked around desperately for something, _anything,_ to hold them.

“Hey!” someone whispered loudly, and Crowley looked up to see Eric shimmying down the rope they had carefully strung from the window to the ground.At this point, knowing they had been found out, no one was taking care to remain unseen, and the rope swung wildly as he practically slid down.

“Eric!” Crowley replied.“What the fuck are you doing?”

Eric hit the floor with a stumble and then flung a hand at the nearest statue, his voice shaking.“I can help you move that!”

His heart thudding, Crowley joined Eric and together they managed to shove the statue (a great stone eagle, wings spread wide) as in front of the door as they could get it.They weren’t a second too soon— almost the moment they stepped away the left door burst open about two inches, slamming into the eagle statue.The statue wobbled, but didn’t budge.

“Thank _fucking_ god,” Crowley whispered, and then said to Eric, “You get the art, I’ve got B.”

Eric nodded.“Right.”He bent, gathering up the rolled paintings and putting the straps over his shoulder and across his chest.

Crowley crouched besides B, gently nudging them out of the view of the crack in the door, where the security guard was shouting and trying to widen the gap.“Hey, B, how’re we doing?” Crowley whispered, nudging their pant leg up just a bit.Their ankle looked _awfully_ swollen.

“Fucking dandy,” B mumbled, and gave him a weak glare.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Crowley said.He looked up to check that Eric was on his way (he was— halfway up the rope, struggling with six paintings on his back as he clambered up to the window) before scooping B up again.They stifled a cry of pain, and Crowley winced.“Can you hold on with your arms?” he asked, shuffling them into as much of a piggyback as he could manage.He had a good foot of height on them, but they were an adult, and a wriggly, injured adult at that.

“Yes,” B snarled, clutching at his shoulder so hard it hurt.“If we’re going, let’s fucking _go_.”

Crowley darted past the door, the security guard’s shouting renewing as he caught sight of the two of them, and made for the rope.It was exceedingly difficult, Crowley quickly found out, to free-climb a rope with another person on his back while desperately trying to avoid capture and arrest.B wasn’t much help; now that they had resigned themself to being carried out by Crowley, they were urging him on faster with pointed insults and reminders of how long the prison sentence for felony art theft was.

Crowley was shaking, his muscles aching, when he reached the top of the rope.A hand appeared and Crowley grabbed it, letting Eric help pull him through the window and onto the art gallery’s roof.He noticed without much thought that Eric seemed to have lost his gloves at some point, but that was the least of their worries at the moment.

B let go of him and tumbled, undignified, to the floor of the roof before they all but kicked him in the ribs.“C’mon!”

Crowley gasped, his breath clouding in the cold air, trying to get his bearings (yes, almost forty was _definitely_ too old to be climbing ropes with 46 kilograms of weight on his back) and then stumbled to his feet.Eric handed him the coiled rope and Crowley looped it over his shoulder before grabbing a few of the paintings and shifting his arm under B’s again.

“Almost there,” he said, praying fervently to whatever god was willing to listen to an agnostic art thief.

Eric shut and latched the window, not that there was much point anyway given that at some point it had gotten shattered, and then the three took off at a too-slow pace across the roof of the museum.

Just as they had planned for their escape route, the building to the left of the art gallery had a roof just slightly lower, and close enough to jump.Eric did so first, leaping over the gap while managing to stay low, and then reached out and helped Crowley and B balance as they jumped.From there they all kept low as they moved across the roof, steps as light as possible, before creeping down the fire escape.

Crowley was the first to pull off his mask, stuffing it into his back pocket, and then he said into his earpiece, “Newt, we’re out.”

“Right around the corner,” Newt replied.

A moment later their getaway vehicle— an old, repurposed moving truck driven by Dagon— pulled up, stopping at the mouth of the alley they were hunkered in.“Go ahead,” Crowley whispered, letting Eric and B go ahead of him as they hopped into the back.Crowley deposited his paintings on the truck’s floor and then hopped in, rolling down the back before knocking on it.

The truck pulled away, trundling down the street that ran behind the Eden Gallery.A moment later, going past them and headed for the museum, Crowley heard the wail of police sirens.

Crowley grinned.He gave himself just a moment to breath a sigh of relief, and then took stock of his team.

Newt was still in his tech-cave portion of the small space in the back of the truck, his eyes wide and owlish as he clutched at the computer in his lap.

Eric was neatly lining up the rolled paintings they had stolen— eight in all, and they could take stock of the worth of each once they were settled.They had brought a couple of forgeries to switch out with the more valuable paintings, and those were still in the van too— it was hard to finish a heist with alarms blaring and police on the way after all— but at least they had gotten what they had come for, if less subtly than they had hoped to do.

And B—

Crowley shuffled towards where B was lying on the floor, clutching at their ankle.“What happened?” Newt asked, his voice barely audible over the rattling of the truck’s engine.

“Someone set off an alarm,” Crowley said, even as he gently pried B’s fingers off of their ankle.B winced, inhaling sharply, and then let him take a look.

“I’m really sorry,” Eric said.“I think that was me.”

Crowley looked up as he carefully took off his gloves, tossing them onto the floor of the truck.“What did you do?”

“I didn’t make sure there wasn’t something for Newt to deactivate before pulling a painting off the wall,” Eric said, his face hollow with guilt.“I was— I was in a rush.I’d had trouble getting the other one out of its frame so we could replace it, I was panicking a bit, and—”

Crowley closed his eyes, exhaled slowly.“It’s… we’re all out,” he mumbled.“We’re fine.”

“I don’t know about you,” B said through gritted teeth.“But _I_ have a fucking broken ankle, probably!”

“I’m sorry,” Eric all but whimpered.

Crowley pulled the knife he had used to pry his stolen paintings out of their frames and wiped its blade on his trousers before cutting away B’s pant leg just below the knee to take a look at their ankle.It was… unpleasant, to say the least.Quite possibly worse than sprained.He winced.“Well,” he said a little queasily, “I don’t see any bone?”

“Fan- _fucking_ -tastic,” B snapped.

Crowley swallowed.“You know you can’t go to the hospital for this,” he murmured.“The security guard knows someone of your size knocked their ankle, they’ll be on the lookout, and if you get caught—”

“I know,” B interrupted.“I’d sell your souls in an instant, and you don’t think you’d look good in a prison jumpsuit.”

Crowley smiled weakly and sat back on his heels.If B wasn’t too out of it to argue with him, then they’d probably be fine.“Exactly.”

“I have some contacts,” B said, sitting up with a grunt.Crowley used the fabric from B’s cut off pant leg to bind up their ankle for the time being.“It’ll be fucking expensive to get it done in secret, but I’ll be fine.”

“B, I’m—” Eric started.

B glared at him.“I know, you’re _sorry,”_ they said mockingly, and then snorted.“Don’t worry, your cut of this job’ll be more than enough to pay for some underground medical care.”

Crowley nodded absently, slumping back against the wall of the truck, leaning his head back and letting the vibrations of the road shake through him.“It’ll be fine,” he said in a soft voice.“As long as we get away with this, it’ll all be _just_ fine.”

* * *

**14 January 2019, 10:04 PM**

Crowley was alone in his flat, sitting at the table and working halfheartedly while he sipped at a glass of whiskey.It was honestly a bit ridiculous to be working so late, but he had been restless the last few months— on edge, expecting something to go wrong, his luck to run out.Much as he hated to admit it, and as lazy as he was, his day job was a good distraction.Even when that work bled into his evenings alone.

Crowley was in the middle of idly sketching out a floor plan with his drafting pencil when his phone buzzed with a call— not his work phone, he would have happily ignored that at ten PM on a Monday despite the fact that he was technically working, but the phone he kept for his… other activities.

Crowley paused, sighed, and then reached over to answer.“What?” he said, picking up his whiskey and taking a sip.

“It’s B,” the voice on the other end said, and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I know it’s you, you’re the only one who actually calls me at this number.”He got up as he spoke, wandering across his flat to the window.

“I have a proposition,” B said, their voice flat, but Crowley had known them long enough to be able to detect the slightest tinge of excitement.

“Yeah?” Crowley drawled, absently swirling his whiskey around in his glass.“Thought that was my arena.Finding jobs, I mean.”It usually was, anyway— B had been known to dig up the occasional gem with their connections, but they were also fairly well-known in the art world these days.A bit risky, robbing a museum or collection you had been publicly seen at the week before.

B sighed loudly.“I was contacted specifically by a potential… client,” they said.“We’re talking a _large_ job.Even bigger than the last one.”

Crowley hummed thoughtfully.Their heist at the Eden Gallery in November had been the biggest of their lives.So something bigger was… enticing, to say the least.

“Not that I trust your judgement anyway, B,” he said, “But do you have an opinion?On this mysterious proposition?”

“Fits with our M.O. as far as I can tell, and there’s nothing too unusual,” B replied, and then hesitated.

“What?” Crowley asked immediately.

“Well, I suppose there’s one unusual thing,” B said.“I don’t think it’s major, just… a bit odd.”

“Worryingly so?” Crowley asked, and B hummed.

“I’ve done my research.Don’t think it’s anything we can’t handle.”

“I’ll call a meeting, then,” Crowley said with a sigh, glancing at his watch.“Tomorrow night?”

“As usual,” B replied, and then hung up without saying goodbye.

Crowley sighed again, shooting off a quick text to his other associates with a time and place before setting his phone aside.He stared out the window and then shuffled back to his table, looking down at the blueprint he had been working on before rolling it up with a tight frown and setting it aside.He finished his drink and then got up from the table, wandering in the direction of bed.

He had a suspicion, for whatever reason, that the next day was going to be _terribly_ long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of right now I have about 45k of this fic written, but a lot of it needs to be reordered/rewritten/strung together ~~perks of deciding to make a big plot change two weeks before posting! yay!~~ , so I'm not also finished writing yet and only have a backlog of a few more completed chapters. Because of that, I'm going to be trying my best to post weekly, so I'll be back next Wednesday :D
> 
> Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! I'm [here](https://asideofourown.tumblr.com/) if that's something you're into


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter foils my attempts to keep chapters roughly the same length (with 1.5k more than the last one whoops) but hey.... at least we get to meet Aziraphale?
> 
> I know I haven't gotten to answer the comments on the first chapter of this, but please do know that I love and appreciate all of them <3
> 
> Enjoy!

**15 January 2019, 5:52 PM**

Crowley was just getting ready to leave his job for the day when his boss knocked on the door of his office before letting herself in.“Anthony,” she said with a tight smile, standing before his desk and clasping her hands in front of her.

Crowley saved his current project and then smiled back.“Afternoon, Uriel, what can I do for you?”

“Come with me, if you would,” Uriel replied.“There’s something we need to discuss in private.”

“Sure thing,” Crowley replied, eyes flicking to the clock.Ten to six.He had scheduled his meeting at seven.Should be fine.With another easy smile he got to his feet and shut down his computer, following Uriel out of his office and down the hall to a conference room.

Inside he found Uriel’s boss, Michael, along with an unfamiliar (and rather handsome, _not_ that that was relevant) man in a tan coat and blue bow tie.Uriel shut the door behind him, and then gestured.“Have a seat.”

Crowley sat just a little nervously, doing his best to keep his expression blank even as he tried to puzzle out whether or not he was in trouble.Had he somehow forgotten a project?Had something he had designed failed spectacularly, and he was being sued?His firm would sooner _encourage_ him to quit than take the flack for a lawsuit, probably.

“Anthony Crowley,” Michael said, steepling her fingers and gazing across the table at him.“I’m sure you heard about the robbery of the Eden Fine Art Gallery, about a month and a half ago.”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he did his level best not to react.“Yeah, I heard about that,” he said cautiously.“Can’t remember, did the police find the perps? They were blaming some famous thief, right?”

“As far as I know, no one has yet been apprehended,” Michael said, waving her hand dismissively.“They’re still at large.More importantly, though, Anthony, the Eden Gallery was designed by an architect at _this_ firm, Andromalius Earl.Did you know that?”

Crowley cocked his head as though he was thinking.As though he hadn’t choked down any remaining scraps of morality he had left, as though he hadn't stolen the blueprints off his coworker’s desk, as though he hadn’t photocopied and distributed them to his associates.As though he hadn’t _led_ the heist at the Eden Fine Art Gallery.“I don’t think I’d realized,” he said after a moment, and wrinkled his nose.“Hm, suppose it doesn’t look great for us, does it?”

“It does not,” Michael agreed, and her voice was several degrees colder.“I have a copy of the blueprints right here, in fact, if you’d like to take a look?”From somewhere she pulled out a rolled-up sheaf of paper and slid it across the smooth surface of the table.

Crowley caught it, slowly unrolling it.He stared down at the neat lines and measurements, looking them over as though he didn’t still have them memorized.

“What do you think?” Michael asked, her voice soft.“What’s the vulnerability in this building's design, that the thieves managed to exploit?”

Crowley glanced up at her, and dearly wished he had his sunglasses.He knew his eyes were far more expressive without them.Michael was staring steadily at him, her face unreadable.Standing behind her, Uriel was watching with a similarly blank, unreadable expression.At her side, the unfamiliar man was gazing at him with clear curiosity in his pale eyes, leaning forward just slightly in his seat.When Crowley made eye contact with him he smiled, and for whatever reason that made Crowley go hot. _Embarrassing._

Crowley glanced back down at the blueprint again, his mind racing.He knew what vulnerabilities the building’s design had— _he_ had been the one to exploit them, after all!But he had spent so long studying the blueprints for the heist that he had no idea what a normal, non-criminal architect would be able to spot at first glance.“Well,” he said finally, rustling the papers to cover up how long he had dithered.His palms were sweating, and he hoped it wasn’t going to get the paper damp.

“Right here,” he said, pointing at a window on the blueprint and praying to whatever god there was that his hands wouldn't shake too much, “It looks like this ledge here could block the line of sight of a security camera, if it were placed where the design says?Someone small could slip in the window and behind the ledge, maybe shimmying down to the floor without being seen.”He looked up again, to find Michael and Uriel watching him with unnerving intensity.

Crowley cleared his throat, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck or fidget with his hair.“From what I saw in the papers and all, the thieves were able to get in, take, uh, a few paintings, was it?And get out, without being seen.And at first glance, I don’t know if I see an exit strategy— most paintings would probably be too large and unwieldy to fit through the small window of invisibility, and I don’t know how wise it would be to roll them up— don’t know much about, uh, art.But that blind spot, it’s definitely a vulnerability.”

Michael stared at him for one moment more, and then nodded slowly.“I see,” she said.

Crowley pushed the blueprints away from himself just slightly, hardly daring to breath.Had he given himself away?Were the police waiting just outside the door, ready to arrest the architect who knew too much about breaking into the robbed gallery?The unfamiliar man sitting next to Michael certainly didn’t _look_ like a police officer (he looked soft, for one, and rather kind, and he was smiling just slightly in a way that reminded Crowley of a gentle sunrise, and _bloody hell Crowley get ahold of yourself),_ but appearances could be deceiving.

Michael glanced up at Uriel.Uriel nodded back.She rounded the table and gathered the blueprints again, tucking them away.

“Oh, delightful,” the unfamiliar man said, speaking for the first time.His accent was quite posh, but there was something hesitant rounding out his words, as though he were afraid of saying the wrong thing.He smiled fully at Crowley, then, his round face lighting up.“You _are_ as good as they claimed!”

Crowley exhaled slowly, trying his best to control his wildly beating heart.“Pardon?”

“Anthony,” Uriel said, “You’re one of this firm’s best architects.Everything you’ve designed in your time here has gone swimmingly.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said slowly, and tried to smile.So he... wasn’t in trouble?

“The last art gallery an architect from this firm designed was successfully robbed within a few months of opening,” Michael explained.“That was... remarkably embarrassing for us, and mark my words, the lead architect for the project has been suitably chastised.We have been contracted to design another art gallery, and we cannot afford another mishap.Once is a mistake, forgivable— many galleries have experienced attempted or successful robberies.Twice is the establishment of a pattern, a pattern of poor quality of work, and that is not a pattern this firm wants attached to its reputation.”

“Right,” Crowley said slowly.“Right, makes sense.”He laughed, hoping it sounded laid-back rather than frantic and on the edge of panic.“So I guess you won’t be wanting to assign the same architect as the last one, then, eh?”

“We want you to design the gallery,” Michael said flatly.

Crowley blinked.“Me?” he repeated, and then laughed again nervously.“I don’t know, guys, art galleries aren’t really my wheelhouse.Lots of, y’know, schools and government buildings and such.”

“Mr. Crowley,” the man next to Michael said, still smiling brightly.“My name is Aziraphale Fell.I’m here to represent Gabriel Strongarm, the client who wants this art gallery built.”

Crowley's eyebrows went up slightly.Gabriel Strongarm, huh.He was a pretty well-known (and, more to the point, pretty wealthy) art dealer and collector— Crowley tried to remember if any of the art Gabriel owned or sold had ever passed through his hands.

Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eye and added brightly, “Mr. Strongarm was _very_ impressed with your work on University of Brighton’s new library, he’d really like for you to be in charge of the project.”

Crowley tried not to look too skeptical of that claim.He had an inkling that _Mr. Strongarm_ probably didn't frequent libraries too often, but if he was being singled out to design an art gallery with a (likely) fairly large commission, who was he to question it?Especially if, as he suspected might be the case, there would be _other_ advantages to having a hand in the gallery’s design.“I’m flattered,” he said, at a bit of a loss.

Aziraphale Fell gave a little wiggle in his seat, and added, “I have no doubt you'll do wonderfully!”

Uriel gave Crowley a hard look.“Well?”

Crowley took a deep breath, and then forced himself to smile calmly.“Yeah, sure, I can give it a try,” he said in a level voice.“Might need some assistance, but I’ll do my best.”

“Oh, wonderful!”Mr. Fell said excitedly.Crowley couldn’t help but smile, surprisingly charmed, and Mr. Fell blushed.“I’d best be going,” he said, checking his watch and standing.“I don’t want to keep you late.”

Michael stood as well, nodding once to Crowley.“I’ll send you the contacts for a few of our gallery architects tomorrow,” she said briskly.

Crowley took that as the dismissal it was, standing.“Have a nice night,” he said, raising his hand, and then left the conference room with wobbly knees and a churning stomach. _Fuck._ That had been too _close_.

Crowley closed the door behind him when he got back to his own office, collapsing in his desk chair and burying his face in his hands.He gave himself a minute to panic and another minute to settle his excitement and then gathered his nerves again, hastily packing up his belongings before leaving his office and locking the door behind himself.He turned away from the door, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and then nearly yelped aloud as he bumped into the person behind him.

“Oh!” Aziraphale Fell gasped, stumbling back and reaching out a hand to catch himself on the door of Crowley’s office.“I’m terribly sorry!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening.“Oh, this isn’t a good second impression at all.”

Crowley tried to smile, even though his insides still felt anxious and trembling and thrilled.“No worries,” he said, eager to seem as cool and collected as possible, and then peered a little closer at Mr. Fell.“What are you doing back here?”His office was the opposite direction from the door— he was lucky enough to have a window overlooking a small park instead of the empty lot next door, but that meant his office was more or less as far as physically possible from the car park.

Mr. Fell blushed, his cheeks pink, and Crowley’s stomach flipped for a reason _other_ than his almost getting caught at committing multiple felonies.And that was... not something he really wanted to examine at the moment.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit turned around,” Mr. Fell said.“I had thought this was the way I came in, but it seems not.”

Crowley smiled, shrugging his jacket on.“Here, I’ll walk you out,” he offered.For whatever reason he had the odd compulsion to want to make Mr. Fell smile again, and it seemed like a harmless compulsion to indulge at the moment.

Mr. Fell looked absurdly grateful.“Oh— oh, thank you,” he said, absently straightening his bow tie and tugging at his waistcoat.He stepped aside so that Crowley could get past.“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing gallantly.

Crowley chuckled, starting down the hall.Mr. Fell kept pace just a step or two behind, and Crowley asked, “So, you’re here as Gabriel’s representative.Are you his attorney, or...?”

“Oh, Lord, no,” Mr. Fell said quickly, and laughed a little.“Just his personal assistant, that’s all.”He smiled nervously.“I must confess, though,” he said, “I _may_ have had a hand in recommending you to Gabriel myself.Your work down in Brighton was simply beautiful—!The elegant arches, the pattern of the shelves to lead readers exactly where they need to go, the way the sunlight was directed around the room without damaging the library’s books... it was quite ethereal.”He sighed a little dreamily, clasping his hands together.“I have _such_ admiration for a well-designed library,” he murmured.

Crowley smiled crookedly.“I can tell,” he said a little wryly.“Maybe you ought to have been a librarian.”

Mr. Fell’s happy expression stiffened just a bit, and Crowley could tell he’d somehow put his foot in it, even though he didn’t know exactly why.That thought made his stomach sink guiltily, and he struggled for a moment to find something to say.The two reached the lift by the exit, and Crowley punched the call button before clearing his throat and saying, “So, uh, Gabriel Strongarm.He was the collector who sold that statue for half a million pounds in December, right?The one of the archangel?”

Mr. Fell looked caught off guard.“Yes, that was him,” he said cautiously.“I’m... surprised you know that off the top of your head.”

The lift arrived, and Crowley stepped inside, hitting the button for the ground floor.Mr. Fell followed, and as the doors closed Crowley said, “I know being an architect doesn’t exactly make me an artist, but I do try to stay somewhat apprised to what’s going on in the art world.I have a couple of friends around, anyway, artist-types that keep me up to date.”

He’d been idly eyeing Gabriel as a potential target for some years now, he didn’t add, although probably more trouble than he was worth.Now that Crowley was going to be designing a gallery for him, though, a gallery whose flaws he would get to know inside and out... maybe it was time to re-evaluate.He’d bring it up with his team, perhaps, if B’s proposition didn’t pan out.

Mr. Fell looked at him sideways.“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—“

Crowley flashed him a smile.“No need to apologize, I promise.”The lift doors opened, and Crowley stepped out before turning to face Mr. Fell.“Here we are,” he said, gesturing expansively at the half-empty car park.

Mr. Fell laughed.“Thank you for your help,” he said, and then offered Crowley a hand.“It was lovely to meet you.”

Crowley took his hand, shaking it.Mr. Fell’s palm was soft and warm, his grip firm, and Crowley wanted to hold on for longer than was probably necessary.“It was nice to meet you too, Mr. Fell,” he said.

Mr. Fell smiled shyly.“You might as well call me Aziraphale,” he said.“I’m quite sure we’ll be in contact again.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up, and Mr. Fell— Aziraphale— went charmingly pink.“To talk about Gabriel’s gallery!” he added.

“Right,” Crowley said with a grin.He gave Aziraphale’s hand one last squeeze and then let go.“Have a nice night, Aziraphale,” he said in a friendly voice.

“You as well,” Aziraphale replied, and straightened his coat before hurrying off across the car park to his car.

Crowley watched him go, the memory of his hand making Crowley’s palm tingle.He was nice, he thought. _And_ attractive, even though Crowley really ought to do his level best not to take note of that fact.Wouldn’t do, to get to know him too well, especially not if Gabriel Strongarm’s art collection was a potential target sometime in the near future.

Crowley supposed it couldn’t do too much harm to be polite, though, when their paths happened to cross.And if he happened to notice Mr. Fell’s charm, well… he could keep it to himself, he was sure.It was almost a pity that Crowley and his associates would probably be robbing his boss within the year.In a better world, Crowley might have liked to get to know Aziraphale Fell a bit more.

* * *

**15 January 2019, 7:07 PM**

B sat at the end of the table, arms crossed over their chest and one foot tapping impatiently.Ranged before them was the rest of the crew, minus their _fearless leader:_ Dagon meditating with her eyes closed, Eric tapping away at his phone, and Newton fidgeting nervously.Overhead, the single lightbulb in the room flickered just enough to drive B mad.If Crowley didn’t _fucking_ show up soon—

As if summoned by their anger, a door on the first floor of the building opened and closed, followed by tromping footsteps on the stairs just before Anthony Crowley burst into the room.“Hi, guys,” he said with a little wave, and his grin almost seemed to grow when he saw the clear annoyance on B’s face.

“You’re late,” B snapped, frowning.

Crowley just smirked, sprawling in the chair next to them.“I called the meeting, so it starts when I get here.Anyway, I got held up at work, which I think you’ll be pretty happy about.”

“What are we here for, Crowley?” Dagon said sharply, clearly as tired of Crowley’s shenanigans and theatrics as B was.

Crowley slung his bag over the back of his chair and wormed out of his jacket, folding it over his arm.“No idea,” he said.“B said they had a proposition.”He gestured grandly, and rather obnoxiously.“Take it away, dear B.”

“You’re in an irritatingly good mood,” B observed, and then rolled their eyes.They leaned forward and made eye contact with each person sitting at the table.Eric put his phone away, and Newt stopped fidgeting, sitting up straight.Crowley, in contrast, slouched more insouciantly.

“It seems we have gained for ourselves something of a reputation in the underground art world,” B started.“I was contacted by one of my acquaintances, speaking for someone who wants to hire us.”

“Who?” Crowley asked, his arrogant smile sliding off his face in the wake of his curiosity.

“This potential benefactor is calling himself Lucio Hellion, although I doubt that’s his real name,” B said.“I’ve done some small amount of research, but of course I’ll need to do some more digging.”

“And what does he want us to steal from?” Dagon asked coolly.“Is it a job we can handle?”

“Have any of you heard of an art collector named Gabriel Strongarm?” B asked, carefully cataloguing the reactions of every person at the table.Dagon shook her head.Surprise flashed across Newt’s face, but he quickly stifled it.There was nothing but innocent curiosity on Eric’s face as he listened.

Crowley’s jaw dropped, and he slammed a hand on the table.“Are you fucking serious?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide.

B glared at him.“What’s your issue?”

“Your contact wants to hire us to rob Gabriel Strongarm,” Crowley said, his voice rising.“The new gallery he’s going to open, right?”

B nodded slowly.“Strongarm has apparently been talking big about opening a public art gallery to display his collection,” they explained to everyone else.“Lucio Hellion wants to rob it.”

Crowley buried his face in his hands.His shoulders shook, and after a moment B realized he was laughing manically.“Fucking hell,” he said, his voice muffled into his hands.“There really _is_ a god.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” B said sharply.

Crowley seemed to be in an unusually ebullient mood, which just made him more annoying than normal.“Guess what firm was _just_ hired to design Gabriel’s gallery?” Crowley said, looking up at B with a wild grin on his face.

“Yours, I suppose,” B said impatiently.“Makes sense, given that it’s the biggest architectural firm in London.”

Crowley nodded.“And guess who’s been assigned to lead the project.”

B’s eyes widened.“Seriously?”

Crowley nodded.“That’s why I was held up at work,” he said, still grinning.“My boss wanted to talk to me about taking it on.”He ran a hand over his face, still grinning uncontrollably.It was getting very irritating, and if B was being honest, a little unnerving as well.

“Fuck, I almost shit myself, they brought up the Eden Gallery and for a moment I thought they were onto me, but they just wanted me to point out a vulnerability to prove that I’m a better architect who can design a robbery-proof gallery,” he said with a laugh, shaking his head.

B studied him carefully, looking for any trace of deceit, but they didn’t see anything but giddy delight on his face.“Is that why you’re in such a good mood?” they asked.

Crowley hesitated just the barest sliver of a second before nodding.“Yeah, I figured that since I’ll have unlimited access to and significant control over the blueprints, we could exploit this somehow,” he said.“After all, word is that Gabriel’s collection is quite the windfall.”He shrugged, and then grinned again.“And if we’ve been _hired_ to do it by this Hellion bloke, presumably with a commission along with any profits we get from the sale itself—“

“I haven’t accepted the offer yet,” B warned him.

Dagon frowned.“It seems rather fortuitous, don’t you think?” she said slowly.“We get approached to potentially rob a not-yet-designed art gallery, and not twenty four hours later Crowley is assigned to design the thing.That’s _quite_ the coincidence.”

“I’ll have to be careful,” Crowley said thoughtfully.“With the planning, I mean.Can’t make it too obvious that I’m putting in vulnerabilities we can take advantage of.But since I told them know I’ve never designed an art gallery before, I think I can swing ignorance if anyone gets suspicious.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Dagon said, shooting him a look.

“You’re enough of a conniving bastard to be able to lie about that,” B said with a grin.

Dagon shrugged.“It just seems a little too convenient.”

Eric piped up for the first time.“I dunno,” he said, eyebrows raised.“I mean, Crowley, does anyone have any idea that you’ve stolen blueprints and such?”

Crowley shook his head, leaning back confidently in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankle.“Nope,” he said.“I’ve been careful.And so have we, collectively, we’ve only done two places designed by my current firm.”

“And why would someone assign a known or suspected art thief to design an art gallery?” Eric pointed out.

“I suppose they could be trying to trap us,” B murmured, frowning.

Eric scoffed.“That sounds convoluted,” he said.“I don’t think the police would try to bait us like this.If they had proof that Crowley was involved in the Eden Gallery heist, or any of the other jobs he’s done, wouldn’t they just bring him in for questioning?I’m sure the investigation is still ongoing.”

“It’s just a lucky break,” Crowley said, waving an unconcerned hand.“Fuck knows we deserve one, after how the last few jobs have gone.”Newt winced, and B shifted uncomfortably.

“B,” Crowley said, turning his attention back to them.“You said on the phone that there was one unusual thing about this job?”

“Right,” B said, nodding. “There’s a few things that make me think Hellion’s motivations might be personal, that he might have a bone to pick with Strongarm.He wants us to replace a few specific, expensive paintings with forgeries, but forgeries of a quality that won’t hold up under much scrutiny.Also, he wants the heist done within a pretty narrow time frame— on the night the gallery opens.I think Hellion might want to humiliate Strongarm, and wants to use a heist to do it.”

“That’s not _necessarily_ a problem,” Crowley said thoughtfully.“We have experience replacing genuine art with forgeries, after all.We can contact… uh, who was it we used for the Eden Gallery heist?”

“We were in contact with Angel,” Dagon supplied, and Crowley snapped his fingers.

“Angel!Right. Angel the art forger.His forgeries were high quality, even though we didn’t get to utilize all of them.We can contact him, request forgeries for what Hellion wants stolen, just shittier quality.”He fiddled with his watch, clearly thinking, and then added, “And B, I take it from your saying that Hellion wants the heist the night the gallery opens to mean that he wants us to rob the place right under Strongarm’s nose?”

B nodded.“The message I got from my acquaintance was sparse,” they admitted.“But that was the impression I got as well.That he wants us to stage a heist while people are around, and with obvious forgeries that’ll get noticed quickly.”

“And it’ll make Gabriel Strongarm look terrible,” Crowley murmured.“Can’t even secure his own art, it gets stolen right in front of him.And shit forgeries would add to the humiliation factor.”He hummed thoughtfully.“Do you think Hellion’s ego— and my guess is that he has a big one, if he’s going to far as to seek _us_ out to try to embarrass Strongarm— is going to be a problem?”B just shrugged.

“I think we should do the job,” Newt said in a soft voice, and B looked up in surprise.

“That was fast,” they said suspiciously.“You’re usually the most wishy-washy.And like I said, this one has the potential to be a lot riskier.”

Newt shrugged, his eyes flicking to Crowley.“It seems straightforward,” he said.“Especially since Crowley will have unrestricted access to the blueprints.We’ll be able to plan for things ahead of time a lot more than we usually can, he might even be able to build something in to help us out.Besides, Gabriel Strongarm’s collection is supposedly an enormous steal.I think we should do it.”

“We can think about it,” Crowley said, crossing his arms and nodding seriously.“Each do our own research, sleep on it.B, when does your acquaintance want a reply?”

“Two weeks,” B replied, tapping their fingers on the table.

“Sounds good,” Crowley said.He got to his feet, giving B a mocking salute.“I’ll contact you all with a time and place in a week and a half,” he said.“We can hash it out then.”He glanced around at the table.“Any other business?”

No one spoke up.Newt looked distracted, Dagon pensive, and Eric excited.B just glared at Crowley, at their wit’s end with his bullshit.It was probably good to end the meeting, they thought, before they gave in to the temptation to throttle Crowley with their bare hands.

“Right, I’m off,” Crowley said cheerfully, waving at them before he swaggered out.

“Prick,” Dagon mumbled, glaring at the door as it closed behind him.“I was here first, I should have left first.”

B rolled their eyes.“Better that he’s gone.”

“You think this is suspicious, at all?” Dagon asked, leaning a little closer.

B shrugged.“Hard to tell,” they said.“I’m going to do a lot of digging.”

Eric looked up from his phone.“I think Crowley’s right,” he said, ignoring B’s muttered, “Wow, _shocker.”_

“It’s about time we got a lucky break,” Eric insisted.“It would be dumb to give this opportunity up after it practically falls into our lap.”He grinned.“What do we have to lose?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! I'll be back next week with chapter 3, and I'm [here](https://asideofourown.tumblr.com/) if that's something you're into


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not generally the _biggest_ fan of putting throwaway ocs in my fic, but I couldn't figure out a canon character who would work for what I needed, so... here we are. Funnily enough, though, according to my ~~very cursory~~ research, Andromalius is an earl of Hell who reveals and punishes thieves and discovers underhanded dealings, and is depicted as a man catching a snake, so I feel like it works as well as it can.
> 
> Also, weekly reminder that I don't know shit :D
> 
> Enjoy!

**16 January 2019, 8:20 AM**

Crowley had already been at work almost an hour (and _Heavens,_ wasn’t that awful?) when someone knocked sharply on his door.

“Come in!” he called, not looking up from his computer.He had one last project to clean up, blueprints for a bakery that was to be built in Soho, and then he was planning to move back to his research and preliminary sketches for Gabriel’s gallery, so he was feeling a bit harried.Anyway, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before— distracted and restless after the meeting with his team, excited to get started on what might well turn out to be his biggest heist yet.

Crowley’s office door opened and a man stepped in, let it click shut behind him again.“Hi,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at Crowley.

Crowley saved his work and then glanced up.“Good morning.”The man looked pretty familiar, but it took a scattered Crowley a moment to place him— Andromalius Earl, the architect who had been in charge of the Eden Fine Art Gallery plans.Right, of course.They had spoken before, at least— Crowley had spent a fair amount of time the year previous hanging around in the junior architects’ office space, keeping an eye out for any blueprints that might prove to be useful to his team, before he had ultimately zeroed in on Eden Gallery as a prime candidate to rob.

In an entertaining (or cruel, depending on your perspective) twist of fate, Michael must have sent Andromalius his way to advise about how to design what Gabriel wanted.Either that, or he was here to accuse Crowley of being an art thief—

Crowley stifled a chuckle at that thought, resisting the urge to let his thoughts show on his face.He grinned, standing.“Thanks for agreeing to help me out with this project,” he said, offering his hand.

Andromalius shook it, his eyes never leaving Crowley’s.“Not a problem,” he said with a smile that was almost more like a grimace.“I’d love to help in any way I can.”

Crowley bent over and grabbed his bag, fishing around for his current planning notebook.Sleepless the night before, he had started to brainstorm a bit for Gabriel’s project— although he’d need a lot more details before he’d be able to really get going.“I’ve got a few ideas,” he said distractedly, setting the notebook on his desk and flipping through it.“I’ve not been given all the specs by Gabriel Strongarm’s assistant about what kind of art there’s going to be, how much floor space they want, and all that, but I’ve definitely got a few ideas.”

When he glanced up, Andromalius wasn’t looking at him or his notebook— instead he was peering at the print Crowley had on his wall, a knock-off Mona Lisa, his brow slightly furrowed.“Do you like art?” he asked casually, cocking his head slightly.There was something odd in his voice, something guarded and weighted.

Crowley paused.“Sure,” he replied slowly.“I mean, as much as anyone else, I think.”

“Have you ever been to an art gallery?” Andromalius pressed.He was still gazing at the print, but Crowley got the impression for whatever reason that he was being watched.

Crowley hummed, not letting the several galleries he had _robbed_ flash though his memory.“It’s been a little while,” he answered finally.“Don’t have a lot of free time, and all that.”

“I’d advise you go to one sometime,” Andromalius said, turning back to him again.He gave Crowley that same grimace-smile, his shoulders tense.“It can be useful to walk through a few art galleries, get an idea of the architectural norms and styles before you start designing.”

Crowley smiled slightly.“Thanks,” he said.“I’ll make an effort to go to one this weekend, then.”

Andromalius nodded.He reached out, turning Crowley’s notebook with one finger before glancing over the couple of sketches he had started.“These aren’t bad,” he muttered, something like grudging approval in his voice.

“Thanks,” Crowley said with a small smile.“I know I’m not all that experienced, but I hope this’ll go off well.”

Andromalius glanced up, making eye contact again.“You’ve done libraries and such, haven’t you?” he asked, and Crowley nodded.

Andromalius stuffed his hands back in his pockets, jerking his chin at Crowley’s notebook.“It’s not so different, sometimes,” he said.“In both cases, you might have to take into account space and light to protect the contents of the building.With a gallery, though, you’re also just looking to display.”

“Makes sense,” Crowley said.

Andromalius stared down at his notebook, as though he wished he could flip through the rest of it.“Why don’t you let me know when you have a little more?” he suggested.“I’m _happy_ to help, of course.Let me know when you need advice.Really, anything at all.”

“Sure thing,” Crowley promised.He flipped his notebook shut, absently tracing his fingers over the front of it.

Andromalius looked up again, and there was something sharp in his smile.“I’ll help you make sure nothing goes wrong with _this_ gallery.”

* * *

**24 November 2018, 8:52 AM**

Michael had barely been into work for ten minutes, and had just gotten settled in her office, when her desk phone rang. 

Rolling her eyes, Michael picked it up, answering with a terse, “Good morning.”

“Michael Empyrean?” the voice on the other end said.He had a Scottish accent, but the kind imagined by someone who had never in their life heard a Scottish accent.

“Speaking,” Michael said, slowly sitting in her desk chair.

“Sergeant Shadwell, Scotland Yard,” the man said.“I expect you’ve heard the news?”

Michael frowned.Silently, she jiggled the mouse of her computer to wake it up even as she said, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Sergeant.”

“The heist!” Shadwell shouted, and Michael made a face as she pulled the phone away from her ear.As she logged in to her computer and pulled up a search engine, Shadwell continued, “There was a heist last night, and the foul thieves got away with priceless artifacts!”

“That’s very unfortunate,” Michael said absently, even as she searched the correct terms and pulled up the first news article she could find.“But this relates to me because…?”

She skimmed the article, only half listening as Shadwell answered, “Because _your_ people designed the place— the—“

“Eden Fine Art Gallery,” Michael filled in, scrolling down far enough to read the caption on a crime scene photo.She mouthed a silent curse, opening up the company’s records in a different tab.Shadwell was still rambling about something in her ear, something about the thieves being part of an international Satanist ring (which was… definitely something?And if people like _Shadwell_ were the ones in charge of finding the art thieves, Michael didn’t have much confidence in their ability to recover what had been stolen), so she felt comfortable ignoring him as she pulled up the info for the Eden Gallery.It had, indeed, been designed by someone at her firm— a junior architect named Andromalius Earl.Michael scowled.

“—believe it may have been an inside job,” Shadwell said, and Michael tuned back in.

“Excuse me?” she said, hitting the right balance between insulted and open to being convinced.

“Aye,” Shadwell said, his voice newly enthused at having someone’s attention again.“Forensics buggers think the devils that robbed the place had to have been familiar with the building’s design.That’s why I’m calling you, the police need the name of who designed the Eden Gallery.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that information immediately available,” Michael said calmly, closing the Eden Gallery’s file on her computer.“Can I get contact information so I can send that to you when I do?”

“Hurry,” Shadwell said after rambling out a phone number.“We’re close on the trail of these miscreants, we have no time to waste.”

“Understood,” Michael said crisply, and hung up the phone.

She stared at the news article on her screen, and then leaned back slightly in her chair.A heist.A museum that had been designed by someone who was technically her subordinate, so if they were implicated, she might also find herself in legal trouble.And, more importantly, even if Earl hadn’t been directly responsible, this would be a PR disaster for the firm.Michael was _not_ looking forward to having to explain this to _her_ superiors.They were… not known for their mercy.And it wasn’t even as though this was the first time, there had been the _incident_ several years before that she still hadn’t stopped getting flack for—

Michael hit print on the news article she had opened and then got to her feet, heading downstairs.It was past nine in the morning, everyone should be at work.And that meant that she would be able to question Andromalius Earl before the police got to him.

Michael made her way down to the junior architects’ office, pausing in the doorway before spotting Andromalius Earl roughly in the middle of the small bank of desks.She schooled the annoyance out of her expression and strode up.“Earl,” she said flatly.“We need to talk.”

Andromalius looked up from his computer, blinking.“Of course,” he said hesitantly.“What’s the matter?”

Michael glanced around covertly to make sure that no one was watching them too closely, and then said, “Come to my office. This needs to be done in private.”

Andromalius frowned, looking a little nervous.He looked as though he were trying to calculate the odds of his escape.Michael did her best to let the tension drain from her posture and jerked her head before turning on her heel and walking away.She heard Andromalius scramble to follow, and didn’t look back.

He fidgeted incessantly as they waited for the elevator until Michael shot him a glare.Her foot tapped impatiently, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.The doors finally dinged open to reveal that the elevator was already occupied by one of the senior architects on his way upstairs.

“Goin’ up?” Anthony Crowley asked, moving aside to make room for them.

“Yes,” Michael answered tersely, and Andromalius followed her into the elevator without saying a word.

“Morning,” Crowley mumbled, punching the button for whatever floor he was going to.Michael selected the button above it, nodding just slightly to acknowledge him.She was terribly angry, but that was no reason to be unprofessional.

“Yeah,” Andromalius said in reply to Crowley.

Crowley seemed to sense the mood, and said in a voice low enough that he probably thought Michael wouldn’t be able to hear over the annoying elevator music, “Good luck.”Andromalius hummed in reply, and Michael just barely resisted the urge to glare at him.

Crowley sighed quietly, slumping against the back wall of the elevator.When Michael glanced back at him for just a moment, she couldn’t help but notice that he looked _terrible._ He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, his shirt was wrinkled and his tie crooked, and he was holding a massive takeaway cup of coffee in one hand.Michael might have guessed he was hungover, if not for the fact that she didn’t really think Crowley was the type to overindulge on a work night.He was unnecessarily flashy and a bit arrogant, sure, but he was good at what he did.Maybe he had had a deadline, had pulled an all-nighter.It didn’t matter, anyway, as long as his work got done on time.

Michael turned back to the front of the elevator before Crowley noticed her staring, and did her best to melt the metal doors with only the force of her furious glare.The elevator jerked to a stop with a cheerful ding, and Micheal and Andromalius stepped out of the way.

Crowley nodded slightly and lifted a hand in a vague wave before stepping out, loping down the hallway with an exhausted slump to his shoulders.The doors closed again behind him, carrying Michael up to her floor and Andromalius up to his doom.

As soon as they were alone in Michael’s office and the door had been closed, Michael said abruptly, “You designed the Eden Fine Art Gallery, did you not?”She knew already, the records didn’t lie, but verbal confirmation was always nice.Less plausible deniability later on, in the event of a disaster.

Andromalius blinked, looking a bit surprised at her tone, but nodded.“I did most of it, yes.”

“Have you seen the news this morning?” Michael snapped.

“I… No, I haven’t,” Andromalius said.“News about…”

Michael stepped around him, grabbing the news article she had printed before off her printer and slapping the pages down on her desk. **EDEN GALLERY ROBBED OF ESTIMATED £6.9M IN ART** , read the headline. **ART THIEF ‘SERPENT’ SUSPECTED.**

Andromalius gulped audibly.“Oh, god,” he said.“Um, that’s…”

“The police are still investigating, obviously,” Michael said tightly.“But we have already received a call.They believe the thieves were intimately familiar with the design of the museum itself, and that it may have even been an inside job.”She paused, glaring at him.

Andromalius’s face paled, and his jaw dropped as understanding welled in his eyes.“I—”

“And,” Michael continued, speaking loudly over him, “Quite clearly, the architect of the gallery is responsible for any flaws in the design regardless.”She rested both hands on her desk, leaning forward with an unusually demonstrative scowl.This whole _business_ had her on edge, and it was remarkably irritating.“What did you have to do with this, Earl?”

“Nothing!” Andromalius squawked.He jumped to his feet, raising his hands defensively, his eyes darting between her and the door.“I don’t have a bloody thing to do with this!”

“Really,” Michael said doubtfully.“Because only someone who was intimately familiar both with architectural design, and with these specific blueprints, would likely be able to find whatever vulnerability the thieves presumably used in the first place.”Her eyes blazed with righteous, avenging fury.“Did you specifically design this museum to be robbed, Earl?Or did you just help these little thieves for a cut of the money?Which was it?”

“No!”Andromalius said desperately, looking like he was going to throw up.Michael _would_ fire him if he threw up in her office.On the spot.“No, I had nothing to do with this, I—“

“You know,” Michael interrupted, her voice shaking with barely contained anger.“I’ve long suspected that someone at this firm had been taking advantage of their position to steal.This is not the first time a gallery designed by architects here has been robbed— the first time was about five years ago, an incident involving some stolen information from this firm that was used to execute a successful art heist… and that was roughly the time you started interning here, was it not?”

“I didn’t— I haven’t—” Andromalius gasped out in a panic.

“Who else could it be, if someone at this firm?” Michael snapped.“You’re the only one with access to your blueprints, are you not?”

Andromalius snapped his mouth shut.“I…”

Michael honed in on his hesitation.“Who else did you show, then?”

Andromalius trembled.“I… I… I was having trouble with a few things, I showed a few other people to ask for their advice, but I wasn’t— I didn’t show it to any art thieves!”

“Who did you show it to?” Michael said sharply.

“Uh, um,” Andromalius stammered, clearly thinking hard.“I don’t know, um, probably Armaros?Since his desk is right next to mine.Maybe Ariel?She, uh, she helped me with an issue with the fire safety regs, I think—”And then his eyes widened with some sort of realization.“Crowley,” he gasped, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Michael frowned.“ _Anthony_ Crowley?” she said doubtfully.“He doesn’t even work on your floor.”

“He comes downstairs sometimes,” Andromalius said, sinking down into the chair in front of Michael’s desk again.He rubbed his mouth, brow furrowed.“It must have been him,” he whispered.“He saw my blueprints, he has the expertise, he…”He shot up again, and shouted, “Did you just see him?In the elevator?He looked like he’d been up all night!”

“Sit down,” Michael snapped, and Andromalius sat back in his chair with a thud.“Anthony Crowley,” Michael murmured, her brow furrowed.Crowley had the access, to be fair, and he was probably arrogant enough to think that he could rob an art museum and get away with it, but it still seemed a bit… unbelievable.“That’s quite the story, Earl.”She cocked her head, thinking hard, going over the timing.Crowley had been working at the firm during the last incident, to be fair, although plenty of people had been. So that didn’t _necessarily_ mean anything.

“He’s been working here for close to ten years, and never had an issue.”She raised an eyebrow, turning her full attention back to Andromalius.“Interesting, that you’re coming up with his name now that you’re under pressure,” she said.

“I had _nothing_ to do with this,” Andromalius insisted earnestly.“But I’m nearly sure that Crowley has.I’ll do anything, I can help you prove it—”

Michael pursed her lips.As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t think Andromalius was lying about his lack of involvement in the Eden Gallery heist.Whether or not Anthony Crowley was truly involved was something else entirely, but Michael didn’t think Andromalius had done anything more than make some poor design decisions in his blueprints.“You may go,” she said after a long, breathless moment.“Speak of this to no one.”

Andromalius got up slowly.“Am I fired?” he asked nervously.

Michael gave him a stern look.“Not at the moment,” she said.“But don’t hold your breath.However… I have some things to look into.”

Andromalius left with his head bowed, and Michael turned back to her computer.

Anthony Crowley... that was a thought.Wild.But… perhaps.

And if he was somehow involved, if he had done something more than pop into Andromalius’s head when he was desperately grasping at straws… Michael would take great pleasure in destroying him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! I'm [here](https://asideofourown.tumblr.com/) if that's something you're into


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longer chapter, and finally, Anathema appears! :D
> 
> Enjoy!

**28 January 2019, 7:12 PM**

Anathema was digging around in the kitchen drawers for silverware when the door to her shared flat opened and her boyfriend Newt stepped inside.“Hey, babe!” she called, and hummed triumphantly when she spotted a second fork.“I got takeout tonight, hope that’s alright. Since you said you have your game night at eight, and I didn’t want to cook.”Newt had texted her in the middle of the day to let her know that some of his friends had apparently scheduled a last-minute DND session for that night— hence her decision to get takeout, since she didn’t feel like cooking and it had been his turn anyway.

“Um, good with me,” Newt said in an odd voice.

Anathema turned when he stepped into the kitchen, quickly cataloging his pale face and frowning mouth.Newt tried to smile when he saw her looking, and kissed her when she stepped over to greet him.“How was work?” Anathema asked curiously.“Everything alright?”

“Oh, uh,” Newt said.He cleared his throat, fiddling with the strap of his bag.“Work was OK.I’m just tired.”

Anathema raised an eyebrow, but let him lie to her for the time being.She knew her boyfriend, after all, and she could tell that there was something he wanted to talk about, but he didn’t know quite how to start.She had a feeling he’d talk to her later, though.And her feelings were almost always right.

Newt left to go put his work laptop and jacket away, and Anathema finished unpacking the takeout.They ate in silence, Newt avoiding eye contact and playing with his food, Anathema watching him curiously out of the corner of her eye.She had a suspicion about what was bugging him, but the thing was, he didn’t think that she knew about the existence of some of his _extracurriculars._

After they finished eating Newt cleaned up the dishes while Anathema put the leftovers away.Finally, Newt cleared his throat as he shut the sink off.“Ana, can we… can we talk?” he asked.“Um, sooner rather than later, before I have to go.”

Anathema gave him a gentle smile.“Of course, babe.Living room?”

“Maybe, uh,” Newt said, shuffling his feet awkwardly.“Maybe here?”He gestured to the kitchen table, and then sat down at one end.Anathema raised an eyebrow, but sat down across from him, giving him the physical barrier between them that he clearly wanted.

“So, uh,” Newt said.He played absently with the top button of his wrinkled shirt, frowning down at the worn wooden grain of the table.“I have… a confession, I guess, and a… proposition?”

Anathema leaned back slightly in her chair, but kept her body language open.“Go ahead, Newt.”

“So, uh,” Newt said.He pressed his lips together.“Sometimes, I…”He shook his head, and then seemingly changed tack.“You know Gabriel Strongarm?”

“Fuck that guy,” Anathema said automatically, scowling.“Oh, _Newt_ , don’t tell me you’re contracting for him at work.”

Newt shook his head vehemently.“No!No, uh, the opposite.”He laced his fingers together, staring down at his hands.“You know how Gabriel announced recently that he’s going to open a new art gallery downtown to exhibit his collection?”

“Mmhm,” Anathema hummed.“I saw an article about it online the other day.”She wrinkled her nose.“I see his taste hasn't improved since the last time our paths crossed. _”_

“Er, yeah,” Newt mumbled distractedly.He took a long, deep breath, and let it out a little shakily.“Anathema,” he said, staring up at the ceiling and chewing on his lower lip.“You know how, how, sometimes people have secrets that they _have_ to keep?Or else there’d be… bad consequences?”

“Sure,” Anathema said a little dubiously.She’d be a little more worried about the direction the conversation was going if she didn’t already have a good idea what his confession was going to be, but it’d be best to let him get it out on his own— she didn’t want to spook him.

“And, you know,” Newt said, his voice getting even quieter, “How, um, lots of people break laws sometimes?Small ones, I mean… speeding, for one, and—“

Anathema’s patience crumbled.“Newt,” she said gently.“Unless you’ve murdered someone or, I don’t know, committed some other horrible crime, I’m not going to freak out.Just tell me?”

Newt managed to meet her eyes, and he looked terrified.“Even though it’s a felony?” he whispered.“Even though I’ve been doing it for years without telling you, knowing that if I got caught I’d go to prison for a long time?”

Anathema nodded slowly.“Newt, I know what kind of person you are,” she said.“I’d like to think, after dating you for five years, that I know what you’re capable of.And I don’t think you’re capable of monstrous crimes.I assume it’s something related to computers?Hacking?”

Newt just blinked, looking a little surprised.Anathema leaned forward just slightly.“I’ve had guesses about what you’ve been up to, of course, but I haven’t been able to figure out the specifics,” she admitted.“Fraud has been my first guess for a while.”

Something close to fear flashed across Newt’s face.“You… know?” he said tentatively.

Anathema shrugged.“Newt, you get pretty hefty ‘work bonuses’ every month,” she said.“I’m friends with Deirdre, the accountant from your office, and she said it’s not their practice to give bonuses at all, much less monthly ones.So I figured you do… other things, on the side, and were passing them off as bonuses slowly deposited into the bank account.”

Newt frowned deeply.“You asked Deirdre?” he said slowly.

“Not as such,” Anathema assured him.“It came up in conversation, she was the one who started it.”

“And you’ve never said anything,” Newt said a little flatly.He looked a little less scared than before, but he was still watching her warily.

Anathema shrugged.“You know my set of moral values,” she said calmly, but watched him just as carefully back.“Do you think what you do would upset them?”

Newt hesitated, and then shook his head.“No,” he said.“No, I don’t think so.”

“Spill, then,” Anathema said with a small smile.“Succinctly, please.You said you had a proposition, so I assume you need help on whatever your next project is?And since you wanted to talk to me before you left for your ‘meeting’ with your friends, I assume it’s not a DND session you’re going to.”

Newt nodded, and then smiled slowly.“I’m sorry, Ana,” he said.“I should have given you more credit than I did.Or… I should have been more careful.”

Anathema chuckled.“You’re a shit liar, to me,” she said.“I can read you like a book, baby, aura and all.”

Newt grinned, and finally his shoulders relaxed.“It’s not fraud,” he said.“It’s art theft.”

Anathema gasped.“Of course!” she exclaimed.She distinctly remembered, a few months before, one night when Newt had had to stay “at work” so late that she had gone to bed before he got home.The next morning, the story had been all over the newspapers—“The Eden Fine Art Gallery last November, that was you?”

Newt nodded just slightly.“Not just me, mind,” he said.“We’ve… a bit of a team.”

“Are you the leader?” Anathema asked with a teasing smile, and Newt shook his head.

“I’m just the computer guy,” he said.“Our leader is— well, I probably shouldn’t say, not until I introduce you, at least.We’ve done a couple of heists at this point, not all in London—“

“Ohhh, your ‘work trip’ to America last year,” Anathema interrupted.“Heist?”

Newt nodded.“Most of the time we do our own research and decide on our own targets,” he explained.“Our leader takes point on most of those decisions, he has a… good eye for it.But this time, apparently our little group has enough of a reputation in the underground art trade world that we’ve been sought out.We haven’t technically accepted any offers yet, we’re meeting again tonight to talk it over once and for all, but… the job is stealing from Gabriel Strongarm’s new gallery, with bonus points for humiliating him— we’re supposed to rob the place right under his nose, replace a bunch of valuable paintings with shit fakes.I thought, given your history, that you might want in.”

Anathema grinned widely.“I’m in,” she said with no hesitation.“Where do I sign up?”

Newt grinned back.“Like I said, we’re meeting tonight,” he said, checking his watch.“In about half an hour.You can come, if you like.”

"Absolutely," Anathema said, jumping to her feet.“What do I need to bring?”

Newt hesitated."Best not bring anything," he said.“We should get going, though, and I’ll fill you in during the ride.”

“Alright,” Anathema said.She grabbed her jacket and phone, waiting for Newt to get his bag again, and they left their flat in silence.

“The meeting’s a bit far away,” Newt said as they got in the car together and he pulled away from the curb.“We’re supposed to stagger our arrivals, so I don’t want to be too late.”

“Makes sense,” Anathema agreed, watching curiously as they drove through London.“You don’t need to blindfold me or anything, so I don’t see the location of your secret lair?”

Newt shot her a sideways glance.“I wouldn’t be bringing you if I didn’t think I could trust you,” he said.“And anyway, we don’t have a ‘secret lair.’Every time we meet, we go somewhere different.Whoever calls the meeting, usually our leader, is in charge of finding a secure location.”

“What’s today’s?” Anathema asked, and Newt smiled a little nervously.

“We’ve got a room at a hotel in Mayfair,” he said.“And we’ll be last to arrive.I... I wanted enough time to try to explain things to you.”

“So,” Anathema said, leaning back in the passenger seat and gazing across the console at her boyfriend. “What can you tell me about your team?Since I’m actually going to meet them in a few minutes, there’s no point in holding out.”

Newt hesitated, his mouth twisting.“I have no idea what they’re going to want to be called,” he said.“They probably won’t give you real names, at least not until they know they can trust you.”

“Did you tell them you’re bringing me?” Anathema asked, and Newt shook his head.

“I figured Cro— our leader would change the meeting details and cut me out if I said anything about wanting to bring you on,” he admitted.“He’s a bit cocky, but he’s no fool.We haven’t pulled off so many successful heists through pure luck.Everyone’s paranoia has paid off.Besides, _I_ didn’t even know for sure I was bringing you until you said you wanted in.”

Anathema scoffed.“Of course I want in,” she said.“An art heist?Especially stealing from someone like Gabriel Strongarm?If I didn’t know how much of a nerd you are, Newt, I’d almost think you were really cool.”

Newt laughed at that, and Anathema teasingly poked at his leg.He caught her hand and squeezed her fingers before letting go again, apparently concentrating on his driving.Newt turned into an underground parking garage, and Anathema sat silently as he pulled into a space and shut off the car.

“Listen,” he said seriously, not unbuckling yet.“None of my teammates are… violent criminals by nature.But everyone has different reactions in panic, and I’m bringing an unknown into the equation.Just… please be careful.”

“Of course,” Anathema said, flashing him a smile.She sobered a little and added, “I don’t know if I’ve said, but I am glad you came clean with me.Thank you.”

Newt blushed a little, smiling shyly.“Well.It’s going to be nicer not to have to lie to you all the time,” he said.“And I figured, if ever there was a job you would want to know about…”

Anathema grinned, unbuckling herself and getting out of the car.“Let’s get on then, shall we?”Newt smiled nervously back.

The ride up in the lift was silent, and Anathema started to get a little jittery as they walked down a long, nondescript hallway before pausing in front of a door halfway down.Newt flashed Anathema an anxious grin, gave her a quick kiss, and then knocked on the door in a specific pattern.A moment later, the lock clunked audibly.

Newt took a deep breath and then opened the door, letting them in.Anathema followed him in, making sure the door closed and locked behind her before looking around the small hotel room, eager to take stock of the heist team.

Closest to them was a short, dark-haired individual, sitting on top of the hotel room’s dresser with their legs dangling a good six inches off the floor.Sprawled out on one of the room’s beds was a redhead in sunglasses, his tie loose around his neck and his shoes on the floor beside him.Perched anxiously on the other bed was a kid who didn’t look nearly old enough to be involved in an art heist, and the desk had been commandeered by a woman with her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail.

As soon as Newt and Anathema entered, everyone in the room froze before the dark-haired person jumped off the dresser, their eyes wide.“Don’t move,” they snapped, and Anathema got the impression that they were prepared to take her down with their bare hands if necessary.

Anathema slowly raised her hands, palms flat.“I come in peace,” she said cautiously, eyes darting around the room.

“She’s with me,” Newt added, and Anathema noticed that he also very conspicuously didn’t move forward any more.“This is my girlfriend, Anathema.You can trust her, I promise.”

The redhead got up off the bed, his hands tucked in his pockets, his shirt half-untucked.“Hey, Pulsifer,” he said in an almost cheerful voice.“What the fuck is your game?”

“I told Ana about the heist,” Newt said slowly.“She wants in.”

The short one scowled at him.“I ought to fucking—“ they started.

“Newt said you’re planning to rob Gabriel Strongarm’s gallery as soon as it opens,” Anathema said.“He only told me because he knows that I want to see Gabriel get what he deserves.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow.“And why’s that, then?”

Slowly, telegraphing her movements, Anathema pulled her phone out of her pocket.She had come prepared, so she only had to unlock the screen before carefully offering the device to the redhead.He reached out and took it, looking down at the picture on the screen: a photo of a large oil painting depicting a lurid version of the End of Days.

“I painted this when I was in my last year of art school, about seven years ago, and Gabriel Strongarm offered to sell it for me,” she explained.“He acted like it was out of the goodness of his own heart, bought it off me for barely a thousand pounds and told me he was being generous.Six months after that, he sold it to some other fancy gallery for close to forty times that.It took me almost a _year_ to paint, and then just because he has a reputation as some sort of prestigious collector he was able to sell it for boatloads more than I got.That kind of money and exposure would have changed my _life._ Still would.But he ripped me off, and now I’m stuck in a shitty day job I hate thanks to _him._ I’m absolutely sure I’m not the only struggling artist he’s ripped off and fucked over.So if I have the means to help bring about his demise…”

“I see,” the redhead said slowly, still looking down at the painting.“And you didn’t keep painting?”He pursed his lips and then handed the phone to his short, scowling friend, who glared down at the screen as though it had personally offended them.

“Of course I did,” Anathema said, folding her arms over her chest.She scowled.“But it’s hard to get a foothold when no one knows your name.Even in the gallery that has my painting, most of the plaque is taken up by Gabriel’s _generous_ sale, I’m barely a footnote.”

She hesitated.“And I might be… slightly disliked by some influential people.Which does make it harder to establish myself.”

“Disliked?” the redhead said, raising an eyebrow.The lenses of his sunglasses were dark, it made his surprisingly difficult to read— not to mention, she was way too nervous and wrong-footed to get a proper look at his aura.“How come?”

“An altercation,” Anathema said stiffly, and then clamped her mouth shut.

Newt piped up behind her, “When she found out how much Gabriel had sold her painting for, she socked him in the nose.”

The short person barked out a surprised laugh before handing Anathema her phone.“Yeah?”

Anathema didn’t answer, and lightly elbowed Newt in the side.He just blinked guilelessly at her from behind his thick glasses.

“So is she in?” Newt asked, shifting a little.

“We haven’t even decided yet if we’re going to do anything,” the woman at the desk said, and then glanced at the redhead— he must be the leader, then.

The redhead stared at Anathema a moment and then said, “After you punched Gabriel, did he press charges?More importantly, is there any info about you in the system?”

Anathema shook her head.“No charges, no police report,” she said.“He was probably too embarrassed to admit he got his bloody nose from a twenty-three year old woman.”She sneered, and declined to add that Gabriel had _also_ leveraged his lack of a police report to get her to go away and stay quiet.

The redhead’s expression didn’t change.“You recognize that being here, knowing what we do, makes you an accomplice?Accessory to grand theft can get you a few years in prison.”

“I’m aware,” Anathema said calmly, even though the thought was a bit terrifying.“But Newt said you’ve done a couple jobs and you obviously haven’t gotten caught, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“And what do you think you’re going to bring to the team?” the dark-haired person said, scowling again and crossing their arms.“We’re all practiced at art theft, but you’re _clearly_ not.”

“I can get you information,” Anathema offered.“I’m still friends with a few people who work for Gabriel.And, while I haven’t got a ton of my own success, I’m familiar with the art world.I can help you figure out what Gabriel has that’s most valuable.”

The redhead studied her for one more moment, and then shrugged.“She can stay,” he said, quickly glancing around the room.No one disagreed with him, although the kid sitting on the bed couldn’t quite hide his wariness.The redhead shot Anathema a sharp grin.“Welcome to the team for the time being, art girl.”

“Anathema,” she corrected him.

“Ignore him, he’s just being obnoxious,” the short one said.“You can call me B.”

“Dagon,” the woman at the desk offered.“Not my real name.”

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the kid said with a small wave.

The redhead cocked his head as though thinking, and then said definitively, “You can call me AJ.”He clapped his hands, grinning widely.“Now that we’re ready to start...”

“I’ve done some digging on our mysterious client, one Lucio Hellion,” B said, levering themself back up on top of the dresser.Newt and Anathema shuffled out of their squished position in the foyer of the room, taking the bed that AJ had vacated.

“He’s the type of person we usually sell art to: a shady criminal type with a fondness for art he doesn’t own and money to burn, so there’s nothing off there,” B continued.“I couldn’t find any reason why he has it out for Strongarm specifically.It’s possible he hopes that the spectacle of the museum opening to find art missing and replaced will distract from the theft itself.”

AJ hummed thoughtfully, wandering across the room and opening the little fridge by the sink.He made a face and closed it again, and then leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.“I’ve haven’t quite gotten to work on my part,” he said.“The official bit, I mean.But I have a few ideas if we decide to take this one on.”He scratched at his chin, somehow managing to slouch even more.“Maybe even some ideas for the other stipulation of this offer, the humiliation factor, that’ll make it easier for our timeline to be tight.”

“On that topic,” B said, “With regard to the forgeries.I’ve tentatively contacted Angel, he’s still in operation and open to a potential arrangement again.”

“Forgeries?” Anathema muttered.

“Shitty ones.To make the heist painfully, immediately obvious,” Newt replied.“To make Gabriel look bad, like he can’t even secure his own gallery.”

“I’ve given the risks some thought,” Dagon said.“With regards to what we’ll need to watch out for.I think if we’re careful and suspicious, we’ll be fine.”She grinned, and for the first time looked a little less intimidating.“And even one or two pieces of art could very well net us a pretty penny.What art girl said is true, Gabriel’s lauded for his refined, _expensive_ taste, and I’m sure his personal collection will be no different.”

Newt fidgeted on the bed next to Anathema, and then said, “AJ, I assume you can get me security info?”

“I’ll do my best,” AJ promised.“Don’t know how much of a hand I’ll have in that.We may need some insider information.”

“And I can help with that, I hope,” Anathema said, neatly folding her hands in her lap.She might have to make some phone calls, but there were a few people who still liked her and might help her out…

AJ nodded distractedly.“I may have an angle I can work as well,” he muttered.“We’ll see how it pans out.”

“So are we doing this?” Eric asked eagerly.

Everyone looked at each other, and then AJ smiled widely.“It seems as though we are,” he said for all of them.“B, let your contact know.We have a heist to plan.”

* * *

**28 January 2019, 11:13 PM**

Lucio Hellion was standing at the window of his penthouse, gazing out at the glittering lights of London, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.He pulled it out with a small smile, knowing exactly who it was.He answered, and said immediately, “Well?”

“We’ve talked it over, weighed the risks and figured our finances, and we’ve decided to take the job,” the voice on the other end said.“You’ll be contacted through official channels soon.”

“Wonderful,” Hellion said with a satisfied, smug smile.He strolled away from the window, through his sleek living room and into his office.“And no one suspects?”

“Suspicions were brought up and dismissed at our last meeting,” the other person said.“Not an issue.They don’t suspect a _thing_.”

“And nothing else out of the ordinary?” Hellion verified.There was an intake of breath, a hesitation, and Hellion snapped, “What?”

“One unexpected thing happened at the meeting today,” came the reply.“One of the team members, our hacker, brought his girlfriend along.She seems to have a regular chip in her shoulder, wants to bring Strongarm down.She’s promised to provide us with some inside information in exchange for a part of the action.”

“Has she done a heist before?” Hellion asked with a frown, and the reply was a noncommittal hum.

“Dunno.I don’t think so.She doesn’t much seem like the type.”

“Then it won’t be an issue,” Hellion said firmly.“If necessary, she will be disposed of.If she doesn’t present an issue, she can be caught and arrested with everyone else.I want this whole thing done properly, remember that.”

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded a little shaky.“Right.Of course.I know.And I’ll still get—?”

“Yes, yes,” Hellion promised impatiently.“Amnesty from any criminal accusations and one million pounds for selling out your teammates.That was the deal.”

“Good,” the traitor said.

Hellion sighed wordlessly and then ordered, “Keep me apprised.”

“Yessir,” his contact said, and then Hellion hung up.He slipped his phone back into his pocket, sitting down at his desk.

After a long moment he picked up his landline, dialing.He didn’t wait for a greeting when the phone was picked up before he said, “Good evening, Ligur."

"Sir," Ligur said with ill-concealed annoyance.

Hellion smiled, just slightly. "Give Michael Empyrean a call and let her know that our little crew of criminals has taken the bait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! I'm [here](https://asideofourown.tumblr.com/) if that's something you're into


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's back :D
> 
> Enjoy!

**1 February 2019, 5:40 PM**

Aziraphale was in the middle of slowly logging out of his work email (it was a bit of a process— Gabriel had recently switched to a new provider, and Aziraphale hadn’t quite gotten used to it yet) when he heard his name being called from the other room.“Fell!Come here!”

Aziraphale sighed softly, glancing at the time, and then got up from his desk and stepped into Gabriel’s office.“Yes, Mr. Strongarm?” he said politely, waiting at the door.

“I have a list of questions and conditions for that architect who’s designing my new gallery,” Gabriel said without looking up, tapping a printout on the edge of his desk.“I want you to meet with him before the end of the day.”

Aziraphale frowned just slightly even as he stepped over to pick up the slip of paper, quickly glancing over the questions.“Er, it’s nearly six on a Friday, I’m not sure he’ll still be at work—“ he started.

Gabriel scowled up at him.“With the amount I’m paying his firm to design this gallery on time, he can damn well answer questions whenever I want,” he snapped.

Aziraphale gave another wordless sigh, and didn’t let his frustration show on his face.“I’ll give him a call, but I can’t promise he’ll answer.”

“Email him, then, if he doesn’t,” Gabriel ordered, and then turned his attention away again.“And don’t bother to lock the door when you leave, I’ll be staying late.”

“Right,” Aziraphale said quietly, and then returned to his desk.He sat down in his chair, stared mournfully at his computer, and then picked up the desk phone.It took him a few moments to dig out the card he had gotten for the architect (although that Gabriel insisted on his own rented office space being sleek and gleaming and modern, Aziraphale’s desk managed to remain cluttered), but when he found it he stared down at it for a moment. _Anthony J. Crowley, senior architect._ Aziraphale pressed his lips together, prayed that the poor man wouldn’t pick up the phone, and then dialed.

It rang twice, and then the other end clicked and the voice on the other end said distractedly, “Crowley.How can I help you?”

“Ah, hello, Mr. Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his heart sinking.He kept his voice low, in case Gabriel was listening.“This is Aziraphale Fell, from Gabriel Strongarm’s office?”

“Hello, Mr. Fell,” Mr. Crowley said, and he sounded notably less distracted.“What can I do for you?”

“I’m terribly sorry to call you so late on a Friday,” Aziraphale said fretfully.“Gabriel has a list of questions for you, he wanted me to set up a meeting.Oh, but it’s so rude of me to call, I’m perfectly happy to pretend you didn’t answer and just set something up for Monday—“

“I was just about to leave,” Mr. Crowley said thoughtfully.“If you’re not averse to extending your workday just a bit longer, I’d be happy to talk with you now, though.I assume the list isn’t ridiculous?”

“It’s only a few questions, although I’m sure more will come,” Aziraphale affirmed, and then hesitated.“Only, Gabriel prefers to have this kind of meeting face-to-face.He says it, er, it’s better for _networking_.”

Mr. Crowley made a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan, and said, “Alright, then.Fine.Shall I come to you, or do you want to meet in the middle?What’s Gabriel’s availability?”

“Oh, it will just be me, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said with a nervous laugh.“But I wouldn’t ask you to meet so late—“

“It’s fine,” Mr. Crowley said carelessly.Faintly, in the background, Aziraphale thought he heard the clicking of a mouse before Mr. Crowley said, “There’s a cafe about halfway between your office and mine, is that alright?If you want to just get this over with this evening, I mean.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said with a nod.“That sounds fine.”

Mr. Crowley told him the address and then said with a smile in his voice, “I’ll see you in a bit, Mr. Fell.”

“Aziraphale,” Aziraphale corrected automatically. 

Mr. Crowley laughed.“Aziraphale.Right.I’ll see you in a bit, _Aziraphale.”_

Aziraphale hung up the phone, unexpectedly warm-faced.He took a moment to gather his nerves, and then quickly finished packing up and left the office before Gabriel could give him _another_ list of questions.Just as he was leaving the office and heading to his car, his phone started to buzz with a call.After glancing at the number, he picked up with a pleasant, “Hello.”

“Sorry I missed your call,” the voice on the other end of the phone said.“I was working on something.”

“I hope you aren’t working yourself too hard, Adam,” Aziraphale said with a small frown.

“Don’t worry,” Adam said with a laugh.“School stuff, nothing for you.”He exhaled, almost inaudible over the phone.“Anyway, you called?”

“Quite so,” Aziraphale said primly, suddenly businesslike.He left the building and stepped off to the side, his voice lowered but not strangely so.“I believe I have some acquaintances in need of your expertise.You may remember them, our friends from last autumn.Can we meet in person to talk it over?”

“Yeah, sure,” Adam said easily.“Maybe this time they’ll actually _use_ what I give them.”

Aziraphale laughed.“My contact did say the Serpent was very apologetic,” he said, and then sobered.“Usual time and place?”

“Yeah, that works,” Adam said. "Does next Saturday work?"

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully.“Yes, that should do,” he said.“Take care, Adam.”

“You too, Mr. Aziraphale,” Adam said with a smile in his voice, and Aziraphale hung up the phone before walking quickly to his car.

The cafe Mr. Crowley had suggested they meet at was only about ten minutes from Aziraphale’s office, but by the time he fought his way through Friday evening traffic it had been almost half an hour since he had hung up the phone.He was, then, a bit frazzled by the time he bustled into the cafe.

Mr. Crowley wasn’t hard to spot, luckily— his auburn hair stuck out, down around his face rather than up in a little ponytail as it had been the other day.He was seated at a table for two near the back of the cafe, his legs stretched out under the table and his posture slouching and comfortable as he looked down at his phone.Every line of him was smooth, elegant, effortless, long legs clad in black and his tie just slightly off center to accommodate for the pair of sunglasses hanging from his collar.

Aziraphale took just a moment to breathe, absently straightening his waistcoat and fidgeting with his bowtie, and then quickly walked over.Mr. Crowley looked up as he approached, setting his phone face down on the table.He rose, offered Aziraphale a hand.

“I do hope you haven’t been waiting for too long,” Aziraphale fretted as they shook hands.Mr. Crowley’s were cool, dry, and Aziraphale felt just the hint of a callus where a pencil would rest between his fingers.

“Not too long, don’t worry,” Mr. Crowley said with a slightly crooked smile.They both sat, and he tucked his hair behind his ears.“Thanks for meeting with me at—“he checked his watch— “At six fifteen on a Friday.”

“I ought to be thanking _you,_ Mr. Crowley, _”_ Aziraphale replied with a slightly sheepish smile.

Mr. Crowley waved a hand.“Let’s call it even, then.”He leaned forward slightly.“You said Gabriel had some questions for me?”

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale said.He fished in his pocket before pulling out the list, handing it to Mr. Crowley.The architect unfolded it, smoothing it out with long fingers before reading it over.He hummed, and then said, “I’m not sure I can answer all of these at this point.”He looked up and gave Aziraphale a sheepish smile.Aziraphale noted thoughtlessly that his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that fit him surprisingly well.

“I’m sure that’s alright,” Aziraphale assured him, looking down at the surface of the cafe’s table.

“I haven’t, er,” Mr. Crowley said a little hesitantly, “I haven’t actually started working on it yet.”Aziraphale looked up to see him chewing on his lip, frowning a little.When he made eye contact Mr. Crowley grimaced and added, “I had a couple of other things to finish up, and I haven’t gotten the chance to do as much research as I’d like to.Like I said, I’ve never done something like this by myself before, and it’s pretty clear it needs to be perfect—“

Aziraphale looked at him, really _looked_ at him, and for the first time saw past Mr. Crowley’s cool facade.He was clearly anxious, jittery about the whole thing, and trying very hard to keep himself together in front of Aziraphale.Crowley might even be worried that Aziraphale would complain about him to Gabriel, would get him in trouble at work.

“I’m sure it’s alright,” Aziraphale said, this time going for comforting.He smiled, and after a moment Mr. Crowley smiled back, his cheeks going just the slightest bit pink.It was rather _endearing_ , if Aziraphale were to be honest with himself.

“Right,” Mr. Crowley said, exhaling slowly.“Right.”He chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.“Long week.”

Aziraphale hummed sympathetically.“I quite agree.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Mr. Crowley said, “You know, you don’t need to call me Mr. Crowley.”He twisted up his face, shrugging.“Since you said I could call you by your first name and all.”

Aziraphale brightened slightly.“Oh!Would you prefer Anthony, then?”

Mr. Crowley shrugged.“If you want,” he said.“Although really, most people just call me Crowley.”

Aziraphale smiled.“Thank you for letting me know.”

Crowley smiled back.“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” he said, tracing one fingertip in a circle on the tabletop.“Your employer seems awfully eager to open this gallery within the calendar year.I’ve been told to put my full attention on this to get it done as quickly as possible.Any reason?”

Aziraphale wiggled a little, relaxing in his seat.“Well,” he said, leaning in a bit and lowering his voice as though about to share a secret.“Of course, Gabriel hasn’t said anything to _me,_ but I do believe he’s gotten himself into a bit of a bind.You recall the robbing of the Eden Gallery?Of course you do—“He laughed to himself.“You looked at the blueprints just the other day.”

Crowley nodded, one hand coming up to fiddle with the sunglasses still hanging from his shirt collar.“Uh, right, yeah.”

“Well, the most valuable painting was stolen from a wing that was… _largely_ funded by one of Gabriel’s rivals, someone he’s been outbid by on art in the past, and well.”Aziraphale hesitated.“They’re both— ah, I hesitate to speak ill of anyone, but on some occasions Gabriel and those he associates with can be a bit… petty.”He shrugged ruefully.“They got into a bit of a public argument, which ended with Gabriel claiming he could make for himself a completely robbery-proof gallery by the end of next year.Well, now _this_ year.Hence, the rush, and the emphasis on wanting to prevent a heist similar to what happened at the Eden Gallery.”

Crowley cleared his throat.“Makes sense,” he said quietly.He looked down at the sheet of Gabriel’s questions again, skimming them.“Huh, yeah, a lot of these are security related,” he said with a nod.He folded the list up again, tapping it.“Is it alright if I try to get you those answers by Monday?” he asked.“I’m going to have to do a little research.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said quickly.

Crowley smiled at him, genuine rather than slick.“I expect I’ll have some questions as well,” he added.“Mostly in regards to what the gallery will be displaying.So I can plan around it, you see, especially if there’s anything of unusual size.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale replied.“That makes perfect sense.I’ll ask Gabriel on Monday if he has any preliminary plans.”

“Thanks, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, and there was something about the way he said Aziraphale’s name, low and soft, that made Aziraphale blush.

“Yes, well—“He coughed, fiddling with his bowtie.“It’s in both our best interests to make sure this is done well, of course.”He smiled a little nervously.“I was the one who convinced Gabriel he ought to hire you, after all, and I shudder to think of the damage to your reputation if something went awry.”

Crowley raised one eyebrow.“Is that a _threat_ , Mr. Fell?” he said.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he spluttered, “Oh goodness, that wasn’t what I meant at all!”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched into a smile.“I’m just teasing,” he said with a laugh in his voice.“Don’t worry, I completely understand the consequences of messing this up.”

He gazed at Aziraphale from across the table, his amber eyes serious.“I’ll make sure this job gets done right,” he said earnestly.“I promise.”

* * *

**2 December 2018, 6:08 PM**

“Sergeant Shadwell?”Shadwell looked up to see an unfamiliar man in a long overcoat standing in front of his desk.

“That’s me,” Shadwell said, immediately deeply suspicious.

The man gave him a tight smile.“I understand you’ve been overseeing the investigation of the robbery at the Eden Fine Art Gallery for the last few days?” the man said.Shadwell nodded suspiciously.

“My name is Detective Inspector R. P. Tyler,” the man said.“I’ll be taking over the investigation from now on.”

Shadwell jumped to his feet.“Y’can’t do that!” he shouted, fingers clenching around the edge of his desk.“ _I’ve_ been tasked with apprehending these miscreants!”

Tyler’s smile didn’t slip.“I’m afraid, Sergeant, that a more… delicate hand than yours has been deemed necessary,” he said.“I’m going to need all of your evidence files and criminal profiles.”

“This is th’work of the forces of darkness, I know it is,” Shadwell blustered, enraged and also unwilling to admit that he didn’t have much at all in the way of evidence or paperwork.“I’m getting too close t’finding them, they’ve sent you t’throw me off!”

“Sergeant,” Tyler said, and now he sounded annoyed.“The case file.”

Shadwell glared at him, and then stepped back from his desk and gestured to one of the drawers.“In there, yeh servant of the devil,” he spat, and then snagged his overcoat and stormed off.

He was still shaking with anger when he got down to the car park, stomping over to his car with his eyes fixed on the ground.How dare this investigation get taken away from him!He was closing in on those thieving criminals, that must be it, so they were resorting to dirty tricks!It wouldn’t matter— Shadwell would catch them, and then they’d get their comeuppance.It was justice.It was _right._

Shadwell was so deep in his seething that he didn’t notice the two men waiting by his car until he almost ran into one of them.“Are you Sergeant Shadwell?” the man asked, pushing off from his lean against the car’s hood.

Shadwell froze, eyes darting between the two of them.They were both dressed in expensive-looking suits and long, sleek overcoats, both with matching frowns on their faces.“That’s me,” he said uncertainly.

The one who had spoken suddenly smiled, a slick, oily thing that seemed supremely out of place on his lips.“Wonderful,” he said.“Sergeant Shadwell, my name is Hastur, and this is my partner Ligur.We work for... MI6.”

Shadwell’s jaw dropped.“Really?”

“Of course,” Ligur said.He also pushed away from the car, standing on Shadwell’s other side.He felt a bit boxed in, but pushed the feeling away— MI6 agents!

“We understand you’ve been working on the Eden Gallery case,” Hastur said in a low voice.His eyes were fixed on Shadwell, irises so dark that they almost blended into the pupils.“MI6 has also been working the case, we’re on the trail of some international art thieves.All kinds of criminals, although I’m sure in your line of work you can imagine.”

“Oh, aye, that’s why I got int’ this!” Shadwell exclaimed.“To fight the forces of darkness.”He leaned closer, whispered, “Does MI6 know about the witches runnin’ around here in London?Root of most crime, in m’opinion.”

Hastur blinked.“Of course we do,” Ligur said smoothly, and Shadwell’s gaze snapped to him.“We’re keeping a close eye on… on all the witches.”

“Shadwell,” Hastur said, and Shadwell’s attention returned to him.“What we need to talk to you about is a matter of national security.You’re the _only_ one who can help us fight… fight the forces of evil.Will you?”

“O’course, what do you need?” Shadwell said.

Hastur smiled again, thin and lifeless.“The thing is, MI6 needs information,” he said.“The police are mucking things up, I’m sure you know how it is.”

“I do,” Shadwell said darkly.“They’ve just replaced me!Some Inspector Tyler, surely sent by the malcontents themselves.”His eyes widened.“Maybe he’s even a spy for the witches…!”

“Ah, yeah, Tyler,” Hastur said, exchanging a look with Ligur.“We’re definitely… familiar with him.”

“He’s _absolutely_ a spy for the witches,” Ligur added.“Best watch out for him.”

“Since he’s working with the, the witches, he’s probably also working with the art thieves,” Hastur said thoughtfully.“So, you oughtn’t help him.Undermining him would… _help_ everything.”

Shadwell hesitated.“I need to bring about justice,” he said uncertainly.

Hastur patted his arm, and Shadwell felt a bit grimier.“Just send information to us,” he said.“Before Tyler gets it, send information to us about the Eden Gallery case.We’ll make sure to use it _right.”_

Shadwell nodded, utterly convinced.“Right,” he said.“I’ll send MI6 information before Tyler can use it to aid and abet the evils of the world.”

Hastur flashed him a grin, entirely too satisfied.“Good man.”He offered Shadwell a card between two fingers.

Shadwell took it, tucking it into the designated slot in his wallet, right beside the information for Interpol’s art forgery expert Ezra V. Pell and Agent Antonin Cralley of Her Majesties’ Secret Service— both of whom he passed pertinent information to about certain open cases on occasion (for a small fee, of course).Something told him, though, that asking his usual fee of Hastur and Ligur would _not_ go well.

Hastur smiled slickly before patting his shoulder.“Best get going.Wouldn’t want you to fall under suspicion.”

“I’m prepared to fight the evil witches and warlocks of the world to the death,” Shadwell growled.

Hastur and Ligur looked at each other again, and then Ligur said, “We’ll let you get going.”He almost sounded like he was suppressing a laugh, but that couldn’t be right— this was serious business, especially now that they had confirmed his suspicions about Tyler and told him that MI6 was seriously concerned about the witches and art thieves.

“Stay safe,” Shadwell said.

Hastur smiled and Ligur tipped his hat.“Give us a call when you hear something,” he ordered, and then the two walked off quickly.

Shadwell watched them go, already thinking about how Tyler’d regret taking the case from him when Shadwell was the one to help MI6 bring the criminals down.He’d be a bloody hero!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have prepared; ideally I'll still be able to update next week but it's contingent on my.......... actually writing the next scene so I guess we'll see
> 
> Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! I'm [here](https://asideofourown.tumblr.com/) if that's something you're into


End file.
